


He Is

by 1BloodandTeeth3



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom! Cyclonus, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Dom! Tailgate, Fingerfucking, Fluff and Smut, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Squirting, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 21:58:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13109328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1BloodandTeeth3/pseuds/1BloodandTeeth3
Summary: Tailgate had every reason to go to movie night with his friends. Unfortunately he’s a bit tied up in other obligations.





	He Is

**Author's Note:**

> Heeeeella un-beta pure filth. I’ve never written fanfic before but my desire to see Cyclonus get absolutely wrecked has outweighed my ability to write. Enjoy!

Little feet swung back and forth as Tailgate nursed some high grade from a top a bar stool seat. It had been a long day of work, and he was eager to relax in good company. He sat surrounded by Rewind, Chromedome, Skids, and Swerve; all listened intensely as Skids was describing in depth how he had escaped a group of decepticons during the war. He had just enough engex in his system to begin adding gestures and voices to his story that left them choking on their drinks in laughter. Tailgate had been lost in thought for most of the story, his mind in other places, but had followed along decently enough that he was able to laugh along with everybody else.

"Im honestly amazed you're still alive with half of the slag you pulled." Swerve handed him another drink as the story came to an end, concluding with a dramatic half bow from the slightly intoxicated Skids.

"You don't know the half of it."

They all took a moment to sip off the sweet liquid before resuming conversations between each other. Rewind sat perched in Chromedome's lap, the two of them passing a drink back and forth between each other while they chatted away with Tailgate.

"When should our next movie night be?" Rewind suddenly chirped up eagerly. "Me and Domey were cleaning out our habsuite and found some new stuff to watch." Chromedome looked down at the excited bot sitting on his leg then back to Tailgate. "We both have maintenance duty tomorrow so nothing serious. How about tonight?" He offered. Swerve had overheard the conversation and was quick to chime in. "Im down!"

Tailgate's vocalizer almost let him say 'yes'. It could have been so simple and easy to, but a quick check of his internal clock showed it was a few clicks away from the top of the cycle. He was pushing it as he was already, and he could only get so lucky. Maybe another time.

"Sorry guys, Ive got other plans" He tried his best to sound disheartened. Which he honestly would have been, if not for his other plans being vastly more interesting. Rewind let out a huff and took another drink from his glass, while Swerve jokingly booed and gave him an unenthusiastic thumbs down. Tailgate internally rolled his optics. Its not like he backed out of things regularly. In fact, he was pretty sure this was the only time. He deemed that acceptable in his books.

"What's gotcha held up? Date night with Cyclonus?" Chromedome arched an eyebrow ridge. Tailgate chose to ignore the 'oohs' that emanated from Skids. He chalked it up to them all being slightly intoxicated. He himself wasn't even completely buzzed, just enough so that he could feel a pleasant warmth in his throat cables. His older frame couldn't handle copious amounts of high grade like the rest of them, it made his processor ache horribly after recharge cycles. It simply wasn't for him. But just enough was enjoyable.

"Another singing lesson. If Im late again he wont let me into our room the rest of the night." He chuckled to himself. He had pushed his luck the first couple times, he doubted the mech would be as accepting again. Time was narrowing down, and the little white bot knew he needed to hurry along. He finished off his drink and set the glass behind the counter before pushing off his chair, landing on the tips of his little peds. He pushed the chair back to it's original spot before turning back to his group. Rewind waved him off, leaning back against his conjux as Tailgate made his way out of the bar.

"Next time, I promise!" He shouted, from the hall, wishing he had enough patience to stick around and hear their responses, but knowing he didn't. It was hard to make his way quickly through the halls without seeming like he was in a panicked rush, but after a few sharp corners and narrowly avoiding an Ultra Magnus that was prepared to reprimanded him for running in the halls, Tailgate found himself standing out front of their habsuite. He invented deeply in an attempt to steady his racing spark, only mildly successful. He punched in the code to their room before sliding quickly into the darkness and locking the door behind him.

It took a few moments for his optics to adjust to the dimmer lighting, all that illuminated the room was the soft glow of stars out of their window. While beautiful to look at, he needed a bit more light. Tapping a button on the side of their wall, it slowly brought their room to a dim blue glow. It was just enough that Tailgate could see exactly what he was looking for.

"Sorry about the wait sweetspark, I know that was a little longer than normal for you." Tailgate kneeled down to a heavily bound Cyclonus, who laid on the floor of their suite under a large selection of blankets and scattered pillows. His optics were hidden under a strip of fabric tied securely around his helm, resting just slightly above a buckle that held a thin silicone gag between his lip plates. It kept his mouth open just enough that it bared his fangs over the soft white material, accentuating them further when he would wrinkle his nose. By the faint glow under the fabric, Tailgate could tell he was slowly onlining his optics as he became aware of the minibot's presence. He couldn't help but feel a jolt of energy race through his spark as he noticed the string of oral fluids that dripped heavily down Cyclonus’ chin and had pooled onto the blanket under him; almost matching the transfluids that ran down his thigh from a heated interface panel he had teased before departing to Swerves.

"Would you like for me to take the gag out? Since you did such a good job waiting?" Tailgate let his digits trail softly over the curve's of Cyclonus' cheek as he was met with a slow nod. He took a moment to retract his face plate before leaning over the massive mech and slipped the leather from it's loop, letting it fall free. Cyclonus let his mouth close slowly, humming as the little bot cradled his head and rubbed circles over his sore jaw. "You did so good, Im proud of you for holding out so long." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the warrior's lips, feeling him shudder gently before kissing back. His arms were tied expertly behind his back, but his legs were left free in the event he needed to turn himself over, leaving him still relatively immobile. 

Tailgate let out a little hum as he stood up and admired the scene before him. It was a rare for Cyclonus to let his guard down and allow himself to be so vulnerable, so he was going to enjoy every second. His eyes trailed the form that lay by his feet, purple and silver curves were etched into his memory file, down to every last seam and steady rising of the large mech's inventing. He truly wished there were proper words to describe how beautiful Cyclonus looked right now.

"Roll over onto your back, let me take a good look at you." Tailgate instructed. Receiving a nod, Cyclonus rolled himself over so that his chest touched the floor. After a couple attempts, he managed to push himself into a sitting up position. Tailgate stifled a giggle as he tried to maintain his balance maneuvering around, it probably wasn't so easy not having arms to keep steady. Eventually, Cyclonus rolled slowly onto his back, propped up by a collection of pillows situated against their birth. His mouth hung open, breathing deeply as he let his legs fall apart to expose his closed panels to what he hoped were approving eyes. 

"Ah see, I knew those pillows would help out. Anything to say to that?" Tailgate let a smirk roll over his lips as he sat down between the splayed legs. Cyclonus had objected earlier to setting up so much, saying he would be fine with the blankets, but Tailgate had insisted. He cocked his little head to the side as he waited, hearing a low rumble before Cyclonus quietly muttered a "Thank you".

"Aw Im sorry sweetspark, I didn't quite catch that. One more time." He took hold of Cyclonus' chin and lifted his head up. "Thank you, Tailgate." The mech spoke up slightly louder. A white thumb stroked over dangerously soft lips before slipping between them. The pad of his servo was met with a glossa that was quick to lavish every joint and seam, optics dimming as the minibot's other fingers stroked under his chin. Cooling vents clicked onto a low setting when the digit pressed against his sharpened teeth before pulling away far too soon for his liking. The very same hand traced a trail down his chest, tracing vents and roaming freely as it made it's way lower. Tailgate paused for a moment, rubbing circles over his interface panel and increasing the pressure until he felt a shudder ripple through the frame under him.

Without warning, a small ping echoed through the room and Cyclonus' spike extended from it's housing. It seemed to catch both of them off guard as the warrior let out a gasp at the sudden release. He flinched when Tailgate let out a 'tsk' of annoyance. 

"Did I say you could let your spike out?" Tailgate let his vocalizer sound heavy, trying to create an illusion of disappointment despite the impressive display in front of him. A thick string of transfluids dripped from the head, practically calling to mini to press his tongue against the heated metal and indulge in every inch. Thanking himself internally for the blind fold that covered those haunting red optics that could read him from a lightyear away.

"It was an accident." Cyclonus turned his head away as if to hide from any look of disappointment his bot could be giving. His voice shook ever so barely, betraying his apparent collected manner. 

"I like to think my rules are pretty reasonable..." Tailgate took a hold of the spike and felt it twitch in his hand, making his spark flip in its casing. It really wasn't fair how good Cyclonus looked tonight. The biolights lining the metal pulsed wildly as he massaged at the specific one that lay under the head of the deep purple spike. Cyclonus threw his helm back and growled loudly as Tailgate began to pump his servos slowly up and down, drawing out more transfluids until it pooled onto his lower belly, coating some of his hand.

"So when you go ahead and break such simple little ones like 'Your spike only comes out when I say it can', it's kind of insulting. I expect better" Tailgate reached lower, finding that his valve cover had slid open as well and was quickly soaking the blanket under his aft. With one had still working over Cyclonus' spike, he let his free hand slide over the soft folds and parted them with two fingers. The mini bot felt himself shudder as a ping entered his own visor, requesting for his own interfacing equipment to be released which he ignored for the moment. His focus was elsewhere.

"I'm sorry..." Cyclonus let out a breathy whine when a servo slipped between his valve lips and rubbed deliciously against a cluster of nodes. His claws tore at blankets under his back plates as he fought against every urge to buck his hips into the caresses of his mate. A second servo was quick to join, pumping in and out of his valve while the other hand continued stroking along his spike. Cyclonus threw his head back and tried to mask the sounds pouring from his vocalizer.

"I can't hear you." Tailgate tilted his head and purred. He rolled the warrior's outer node around with his thumb, enjoying how his thighs jumped and more noises were drawn out of the normally quiet mech. This was the one place Cyclonus could let his voice out, and it was sweeter than any music. 

"I'm sorry!" The large mech cried out. Tailgate pumped his servos in and out of the valve, curling them and striking places Cyclonus didn't even know existed inside himself. They made his vents hitch and vocalizer short out, he let out a few clicks of static before gasping when it onlined once more. The minibot stilled the hand stroking his spike, earning him a growl of frustration that was quickly replaced with soft pants as Tailgate dipped his helm down to lap around the fingers embedded in his valve. Fingers continued to plunge deep inside as he dragged his glossa along each fold, occasionally taking them between his teeth and gently tugging before lavishing them with small kisses. Lubricants ran down his chin as he drank in the sweet fluids that practically dripped out of Cyclonus, Tailgate made sure to give his outer node plenty of attention. Alternating between flattening his glossa and small taunting licks, before eventually burying his face in and groaning in bliss. 

"T-Tailgate" Cyclonus felt the peak quickly approaching. His hips were moving against Tailgate's skillful hands on their own, pleading for him to keep going. He could practically taste how close his overload was. The mini watched tentatively, feeling his spark ache as he fell further and further in love. To watch this warrior lay open in front of him and ask for everything, trusting him every second...

"Go ahead, big mech." Tailgate's voice was his ultimate undoing. Overload racked his frame, rippling through every circuit and every joint until his optics shone white. He cried out as a rush of fluids squirted from his valve, hitting Tailgate in the face as he worked him through spasms. A few weaker streams of fluids left the white mech with a dripping hand and a grin from ear to ear plastered across his face. Cyclonus' whole frame finally relaxed against the pillows, cooling fans roaring.

"I never took you as a squirter, Cyc." He giggled, bringing his hand up to dart his tongue across the tip of each servo. The clear fluid had a slightly different taste from his transfluids, but it wasn't unpleasant. The mech below him was cycling air as quickly as he could, jaw slightly slack as he attempted to regain his composure. He let out another bout of static, a few attempts of rebooting his vocalizer finally brought his voice back. "I...didn't either..." He responded. Optics returned to a normal dark red tint under his blind fold after a few clicks, Tailgate sat rubbing circles on his hip joint until his venting returned to normal.

"Well it sounded like it was pretty good. We'll definitely have to try that again." Cyclonus nodded in agreement, feeling strength return to his joints. “I wouldn’t object to that...” Tailgate crawled up his chest and took a moment to untie the fabric wrapped tightly around his helm, letting it slide away until he was greeted with the familiar piercing red optics. Though after his overload, they seemed to soften to almost a dull pink.

“Hello handsome.” The minibot smiled and leaned down, pressing his lips to Cyclonus’ once more. He enjoyed feeling Cyclonus sigh and deepen the kiss, it felt like the universe had stopped in it’s tracks and only they remain. This moment, this sensation, Tailgate was convinced this was what true happiness felt like.

The white mini trailed his hands over his broad chest and smiled against the glossa retreating from between his lips. He was well aware that Cyclonus could probably feel the lubricants dripping from his still closed interface panels onto his stomach, as well as his still hard spike that twitched and rubbed against Tailgate’s aft. He tilted his hips back and ground against the heated metal, delighted to hear a gasp leave the large mech as a result.

“Oh, did you think that was it?” Tailgate rose an optic ridge. A ping rang out as he finally disengaged his interface panel, letting the wet lips of his own valve leave sticky kisses against the spike head. “You love that, don’t you.” Cyclonus perked up and met the gaze of the little mech laying on his chest, lazily grinding their hips together.

“You’d love if I slid my valve down on that big spike. If I rode you until my vocalizer burnt out and I was left stretched open and so full of your transfluids it dripped out of me for cycles.” Cyclonus let out a low, deep groan that made his entire frame tremble. His spike pulsed against the back of Tailgate’s thigh and drooled lubricants heavily down the smooth surface, begging to be touched.

A little giggle slipped over Tailgate’s voice. “Next time. Tonight is about you.” He slid off of Cyclonus’ lap, making sure to drag his valve slowly down his spike until he sat between his legs once more. He took a moment to admire the big mech’s own valve, a smooth silver and deep red node to match his biolights that glistened in the low light with arousal. Cyclonus grunted as he readjusted his arms still tied behind his back. It left him little to grab onto, all was in Tailgate’s capable servos. Though he did fight it slightly irritating, he found himself wishing he could dig his claws into a surface or even into Tailgate, but knowing there would come another night where he could. To see his minibot getting so much enjoyment out of him tied up helped to push the irritation aside.

A sigh slipped out of his vocalizer as Tailgate rubbed the head of his spike between soft valve lips, so close to filling him up.

“You want it?” Tailgate continued to stroke his spike against the warmth, occasionally pushing against the opening as if he was going to finally give in, only to pull away and leave the warrior flustered. He met the white bots gaze and nodded, all it earned him was a shake of the head.

“I wanna hear you say it. I wanna hear what you want.” Tailgate could practically hear the ropes binding Cyclonus’ arms strain and a snarl start to form. He was pushing the purple mech pretty far out of his comfort zone as it was, but he knew his limits. After a few minute and a slow exvent, he felt the tension leave the large frame as he finally gave in much to Tailgate’s delight.

“Your spike...” Cyclonus muttered, voice thick and deep with desire. “Frag me...” Tailgate shuddered, holding onto every cable of his being and doing his best to not bury himself in that perfect warmth. He simply tipped his head to the side, waiting for Cyclonus to finish.

“Please.... frag me, Tailgate.” 

The mini couldn’t hold back a low groan that spilled from his vocalizer, ingraining that audio file to his hard drive and knowing he would use it every time Cyclonus was out on a mission until the day he offlined. Spreading the plump valve lips with his thumbs, he pushed fully in. He didn’t pause until their pelvic plating pressed together and Cyclonus’ head was tipped back in a silent cry, back struts arched off of the floor. What a perfect picture, seeing the mech he loved in such a disheveled state, it filled his spark with a joy nothing else could rival.

He wasted no time, pulling out almost completely before slamming back home. When they had first began to interface, Tailgate was more than self conscious of his spike size. Knowing he would never be able to give Cyclonus the processor haulting fullness he got to experience when they switched rolls. Over time they grew to learn each other’s frames, and Cyclonus taught him that size meant nothing if he didn’t know how to light up his circuits. Touches, caresses, obscene words, all together and then some was what made their interfacing wonderful. It made them cut out of their shifts early, it made them skip out on movie nights, it was the little things.

Wet squelching sounds filled the room as Tailgate thrust eagerly into the valve, holding his hips firmly with one hand while the other stroked his stomach plating or tugged at sensitive wires under his hip joints. The only thing louder than their interfacing was the panting and groans that flowed from their vocalizers. 

Claws desperately scratched under his frame, searching for anything at that point. He managed to grab hold of a fistful of blankets and squeezed hard, feeling the delicate fabric begin to tear under his fingertips. Cyclonus could feel his hips bucking into each thrust or gentle touch from a servo, as if he were no longer in control of his own limbs. It felt as if sparks were dancing down his frame, licking every cable and node with energy, somehow becoming too much and not enough at the same time.

He offline his optics in a rush, knowing if he didn’t then he would meet his own overload much quicker than he would like. Everything was too much; the sensation, the sounds, the scent of lubricants, Tailgate, all of it. Much to his dismay, he felt the minibot slow down to a stop, spike fully embedded in the soaked valve that was dripping more every minute. His lip plates instantly curled into the snarl he had hid earlier, a frustrated growl accompanying the display.

“Optics on. Now. Or I don’t move an inch.”

For a moment he hesitated, only to once again slowly surrender and bring them back online. They flickered and readjusted, meeting Tailgate’s own bright blue optics. Once he was satisfied, Tailgate pressed their hip plating together and ground himself against Cyclonus’ outer node, a sudden shout tumbling from his vocalizer as he resumed their earlier pace. The warrior could feel their mixed lubricants running down his aft as internal nodes were struck on each thrust, tugging desperately at the shredded blankets below him and knowing it would do no good.

“Tailgate...” He panted out. His helm was tilted back, any attempt to open his vents and cycle air faster were pointless. Gasps and moans unconsciously spilled out of the purple mech, only fueling Tailgate on further. He knew the both of them would be littered in paint transfers after this, him much worse than his mini bot. 

Small white servos trembled as they sought out anything to grip onto, which happened to be a particular sensitive set of wires deep in the junction of his hip joints. With a few more thrusts, Cyclonus clenched his eyes shut and let out a cry as overload finally washed over his frame. Thick spurts of transfluids coated his chest and stomach, his spike twitching against the heated metal and spurring on Tailgate’s own end. With a soft moan, the mini sunk into the warmth of his valve and overloaded deep inside, feeling the big bot shiver at the sensation as his valve cycled down and milked every drop from his spike.

The two sat still for a couple clicks, the occasional pop of cooling metal brought them back to reality. Tailgate had sunken down to rest his head against Cyclonus’ chest, his arms had locked up during overload and were too tired to hold up his frame at the moment. Eventually he brought his head up and set his optics on the big bot, watching him slowly roll his head over to meet his own gaze and smiled at the half lidded red eyes. Cyclonus was much slower and docile after overloads, blinking slowly and taking a deep invent before letting it out.

“You’d probably like the use of your arms about now.” Tailgate sat up, a low rumble from the bot below was either a chuckle or an acknowledgement. He sat up and carefully retracted his softening spike, his vocalizer caught as mixed transfluids gushed out of the well used valve, only adding to the mess they needed to clean up. 

“Primus Cyc...” The minibot muttered as he leaned foreword to untie the knots binding Cyclonus’ arms, releasing them and tossing the rope aside for another night. The purple mech lazily rolled back over and sighed contently, rolling his wrists a couple times before resting them on his stomach and raising an eyebrow.

“Are you going to stay down there all cycle?” He tilted his helm. 

“We should probably get cleaned up, it’s pretty messy down here.” Tailgate chuckled. Cyclonus held up a hand, showing the mini bot that he was shaking slightly. “I’ll need a few clicks to get back to normal. Go ahead and shower I’ll join you in a moment.”

A small huff left Tailgate before he extended a hand towards the bigger mech, who looked at him confused. “Let me clean you up. It’s the least I can do.”

For a moment there was silence, before a smile tugged at the corner of Cyclonus’ face plates. He slowly took the hand offered to him and pressed a kiss to the little white knuckles, a contented sigh left him before he glanced back up at his conjux.

“Thank you.”


End file.
